


Moving On

by Raiden1230



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-11
Updated: 2015-03-11
Packaged: 2018-03-17 09:51:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3524753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raiden1230/pseuds/Raiden1230
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin couldn't move on from Harry's death even after the burial.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moving On

Merlin never thought the one time he wore his suit was at Harry Hart’s funeral. 

 

3p.m., cloudy with some afternoon breeze. Roxy and Eggsy stood beside him, back straightened like the first day at the audition. Before the two newest Kingsman agents insisted to come along, Merlin had suggested to take care of the body himself. It wouldn't be a lot of work, he thought. He had experience with private burials, lots. It wasn't so long ago that former Lancelot had his done. 

He didn’t speak a single word even after the coffin was fully buried in dirt. Eyes still locked on the location where the wooden container was still visible. Merlin remembered how peaceful Harry seemed, hand placed on his chest, how clean he looked. As if all the blood from his last mission was washed away eternally. It wasn't what Harry would like to see. 

Eggsy brought poppies. Scratched his head and smiled saying he wouldn't know what fits Harry’s taste. Roxy had a lily, she put it down and glance over her shoulder.

"Lily? Doesn't it symbolise motherhood or something?" Eggsy questioned, with his curious frown.  
"And remembrance. An agent like the former Galahad is worth remembering, to our honour," she stood back in line, eyes never moving away from the ground.

When it was Merlins turn to place his flower, he walked forward. Eggsy tilted his head, pointed at what he was holding.  
“They are calendulas,” Roxy identified. They laid still in Merlin’s hands, occasionally shifted to the wind. Merlin kneeled down and put them down gently beside the other flowers. He stayed down for a minute, eyes closed to that gentle breeze, to the scent of nature, and wished to sense Harry Hart once again. 

He didn't.

He could hear Roxy whispering to Eggsy in a distance: "...symbolise grief, sorrow, and despair...."

 

Merlin tidied his shirt a little when he stood up, and turned around.   
"Now, the burial is done. Galahad, Lancelot, you shall return to your mission. I will send you the details not later than five," he said and looked to both younger agents. His expression was still and calm, as if nothing from a minute before ever happened. Eggsy stared at him, knowing the boy Merlin thought he would start questioning him about how cold he acted, but there was no objection. The stubborn eyes turned away, followed by a stern "Yes, Merlin."

Merlin left first, not that he was too worried about the other two. With the usual fast pace he walked down the hill for the cab he called. He gave one last look to the hill as he opened the car door. Experience told him not to waste time on emotional businesses, but his heart screamed otherwise and started aching. There was a voice telling him to take a day off and just stayed on the hill for the entire afternoon. 

Of course, he didn't listen to it.

***

It was midnight when Merlin left the building. He had massaged his forehead many times in that hour due to the heavy amount of hacking he did for Lancelot’s new mission. He remembered cleaning up his mug, which was filled with coffee almost every hour. 

The mission left Merlin fatigued. Although he didn't eliminate the possibility of that god damn funeral being another reason. He was never good at dealing with his own emotion. Still too naive, still too sensitive.

Walking on the familiar path to his apartment, he had thought of the past. Merlin was secretive enough to hide it; dull enough for people to stay away. Harry Hart, who was doing the same, hid better, and maintain a mysterious and unbreakable facade. That was enough to make Merlin jealous. Although it never took him long to learn how to put on an act himself, which became what he was- the practical, serious apprentice trainer and tech-professional of Kingsman. 

Merlin closed the front door and decided to sit on the sofa for a short break. He used to stay in the Kingsman building more than he stayed in his own apartment. His place was not exactly the most ideal place ever- not that he couldn't afford for a better one- he just liked it cozy and small. His head rested on the cushion and he remembered the last time Harry did the same thing when he stayed over. He remembered the man watching him as he walked back to the sofa with two mugs of coffee in his hands. Harry looked at him, not with the polite smile, but a warm, welcoming smirk. It once hit Merlin that Harry did this only in front of him. Not that he feel privileged to be in that situation. Well, perhaps a little. Merlin wasn't sleepy, but he didn't get up instantly either. Maybe it was just that voice again that persuaded him to sink in the moment. He could smell Harry’s cologne.

Harry’s cologne?

He stood up and headed to his room, yes, oh how could he forget about them. He stepped over the threshold and stood still, eyes shifting in a mix of speechlessness. An uneasy feeling flooded him, didn't give him a chance to make a sound. 

There was a shirt hanging at the edge of the desk. His shirt. A bottle of cologne. His cologne. On the far surface of the desk laid a leather cover notebook with a Kingsman logo. His notebook. Merlin leaned on the wall, silently mocking himself. What was he thinking that Harry would just leave his head? There were traces of him everywhere. Merlin could identify each and everyone of them. The undone bed, the shirt waiting to be ironed for a favour, the extra mug on the table beside his own that was used more for tea than for coffee. The old Hart he knew was precise enough to collect everything he owned, and the only reason why he left them there was merely a reminder. A warm reminder that he was still there, that he would return to pick his belonging up another time, which turned into the cold, unsettling signs of his absence. 

Memory sank him in, like a rising tide, had him falling into the bits and pieces he threw away. His position didn't allow him to stay, his position didn't allow him to grief. His position required him to think the most rational, to think the most cold-hearted, because problems had to be dealt with and he was responsible to deal with them. How many agents had him seen that he ended up burying? How many left his heart shattered and repaired just for the next thrilling scene of a failed mission? Harry Hart; upon taking his code name, upon holding Merlin’s hand tight in his own, looked confident and powerful.  
“I won’t be one of them, say if I ever was going to die, it would be in our late years,” same old promising tone of voice from the lips that ended up sealing for a gentle peck on Merlin’s.

 

Merlin turned the light off and slid down the wall. Head down leaning on his knee caps. Numb fingers touched the rim of the glasses and took it off, powerless, as if it was the last task they were able to accomplished. His eyes half closed, seemed to stare at the wooden floor, but was actually tracing the trail he had last walked with Harry. Out of the bedroom, slower paced than usual, idle, dozy, feeling the weight of Harry’s hand on his shoulder, thinking what would happen if he dare leaned into the other. The scene lasted until Merlin felt the warmth on his face, much like raindrops, much like his emotion. Falling down his cheek, off his chin. Falling, stained, vapourised. 

He closed his eyes, and thought about that day.

Merlin didn’t lean in until they reached the sofa, and he sat down on the sofa and stayed leaning on the soft cushion. Harry’s call was ignored, his eyes were shut. There was no way anyone would get him off of that seat for the rest of the day. There was a force picking up his left hand, he could feel Harry staring at him. Something soft pressed on the back of his hand. Merlin smiled, not showing any signs of giving up. Kisses traced up to the middle of his arm, then gone, just to appear again on his cheek moving towards his lips. Finally, lips to lips, pleasant greeting. He heard a cackle as he gave in and opened his eyes. Harry Hart, leaning towards him, smiling like it was the happiest moment. There was no pretending, it was not Galahad, it was his Harry Hart.

Merlin opened his eyes.  
There was him, the dark bedroom, and emptiness. 

***

“Merlin,” Eggsy stood still with his full uniform, eyes darkened to the dim light in the room. He gave it a pause before finally breaking the silence again, “What did you really feel on the day? Harry’s funeral.” He was patient for an answer, confident that he would be given one. 

Merlin turned his head first, there was something in his eyes that Eggsy couldn't quite capture. He could hear a noise of something hitting the table. Eggsy recognised the man might have tried to be gentle, but failed. When Merlin’s whole body was turned to face the younger agent could see what was behind the other.

Stood still in a dark blue pot, there was a calendulas.


End file.
